


Rebuilding

by Sprintjump



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Post-Predacons Rising (Prime Movie), Post-War, Rebuilding, Sparks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:39:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27880118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sprintjump/pseuds/Sprintjump
Summary: History had shown, two factions could not coexist on Cybertron. Predaking knows this.
Kudos: 8





	Rebuilding

**Author's Note:**

> Kinda wanna continue rebuilding Cybertron but who would stick around. Anyways here you go...

To say he was at a loss at what to do was an understatement.

Predaking sat atop a large hunk of junk metal and looked out at Cybertron’s large, wasted landscape. Since arriving on the planet of his origin and the great, it had been mostly quiet. For that, Predaking did have to admit he was grateful. Seeing your brethren reanimated was scarring. Almost being plunged into the heart of your creator? Terrifying.

The original Autobots he had encountered had gotten to work creating somewhat livable structures, according to their standards. Simple dwellings were being constructed in a relatively cleared portion of the plane, and Predaking could see the settlement’s lights from where he rested now. He hadn’t dared approach in daylight hours. Although the original Autobots he had encountered were no longer unapproachable, the few returning refugees had turned their arms on him without thought. He understood; he must have looked like any other creature that had been engineered for wartime purposes. He did not expect open arms and joyous meetings.

He preferred to do his moving in the dark to avoid fire and various issues. He also enjoyed the time alone; Skylynx and Darksteel were a troublesome two who were tiring. At night, he was with only his thoughts and could do as he pleased. However, this night Predaking was not alone.

So close to the Well, it was not uncommon to see a Newspark dart around before leaving one’s line of sight. However, this night atop his own pile of debris, there was one weaving around him.

Predaking watched it in confusion. Bright blue in color brightened and dimmed with movement as it weaved among shrapnel and his form. It had appeared and stayed for quite some time, then darted away towards the lights before returning. He had tried shooing and tried moving, but it followed. It resumed its weaving, then bouncing.

At this point, it had become rather annoying, and Predaking began to eye it. Could one squash a spark? If so, was that murder? He didn’t quite know. The whole business of new life was strange and foreign to the Predacon. He didn’t remember quite how it started or grew. Squashing a spark, though, tempting.

The spark darted away towards the lights again and seemed to glow brighter. Predaking released tension from mandibles and eyed it. He didn’t suppose it had a conscious. Yet, it seemed to be acting in a very deliberate manner. It darted a little farther, still in sight, glowing brighter.

Oh, to hell with it.

Predaking got up and crept towards it. It ceased it’s darting and kept a steady pace as it marked the same distance from him. Predaking followed it as it inched towards the lights. He supposed he could fly, but what if he lost track of this fickle thing darting among the rubble and weaving a path for him to follow?

Predaking stopped. He looked, and the spark stopped and glowed brighter as if to ask: _Why?_

Predaking, in confusion, continued forward, following at a quicker speed. Coincidence at first, he could understand, but now? Indeed this spark was leading him towards the settlement.

He followed, trying to make as little noise as possible. Slowly the buildings drew nearer, and Predaking began to pick up sounds of the life within these crude barracks. He heard the hearty laugh of a green mech and could almost see his form in the window, surrounded by the others. 

_Strange_. Predaking thought. He did not know why it was odd to him, but indeed it was.

He slipped into a slow stalk as the spark traveled through the middle of the settlement. Predaking heard nothing but saw a glimpse of a mech seated at an empty table in another dwelling. He knew this mech’s origin, and it was not the side of Autobot. He sat solemn and alone. Predaking almost felt sympathy. Though no side had won the war, there had to be a sense of utter defeat when your leader abandons you and your cause no longer existed as a united front.

Predaking passed solemnly.

The spark continued slowly, and Predaking could see the destination, the bright blue hum soft and inviting. The light sparkled from the heart of Primus, reaching to the sky.

Predaking followed, and as he neared the Well, he could make out a figure sitting on its edge. He approached slower now, in a hunter’s stance to hide his presence. The spark continued towards the figure, and Predaking almost halted. He took another step, unsure. If the spark had brought him this far, what next?

Closer, he approached, and he saw the blue paint on the mech. In a second, he froze, and the spark flew right by the neck of the mech and returned from the Well from which it came. The mech startled and turned and met optics with Predaking. The Predacon supposed he looked rather imposing, in a hunter’s stance and in his original form. At first, the other mech startled, then looked towards the well before returning his gaze to the Predacon.

“Did it lead you here?” Ultra Magnus asked.

Predaking did not answer but tilted his head in acknowledgment of what he said. He hadn’t been this close to Autobot without being fired at, and it felt odd.

Ultra Magnus waited for an answer, but upon not receiving one (or acknowledging perhaps he could not obtain one), he continued looking at the Well. Predaking had known him as a very stoic and composed mech but judging by his posture and future utterances, he seemed not to be so this night.

“The spark follows me occasionally, at night. I did not follow it. I suppose it chose to find you instead. You did a better job than me of giving it what it wanted”.

Predaking blinked. Well, he wouldn’t say he listened. It was rather annoying to him. Of course, Ultra Magnus did not understand this and continued.

“I am the interim leader, with Prime gone.”

Predaking watched, waiting for more.

“You are a leader yourself, aren’t you? Or so, you have deemed yourself one.”

Predaking ticked a bit at this answer. He wasn’t wrong, but he did not recognize the tone.

“Another I knew proclaimed themself leader; he is now disgraced and lost among the stars.” Ultra Magnus studied Predaking, pausing before continuing. “Cybertron could not exist with two different sides; it ended in a war our planet was devasted by. Our society is gone. I do suppose it needed to be gone, the carnage I wish could have been avoided.”

The mech’s optics squinted.

“Do you suppose we could coexist?”

Predaking narrowed his optics. He was off guard. He was often met with brutality and rage, yet not only was being spoken to not, but it was not as a thing but as a being. He looked for an extended period at the mech, then to the Well from which life sprang. Something deep in his spark twanged, and he could feel a memory older than time resonating within him. It was from a time before this time, a time he had been removed from.

Predaking approached the Well slowly, taking his eyes off Ultra Magnus and looked towards the blue light. He could see the faint hints of spark rising above and dipping back down to the abyss. At the side of the mech, Predaking could hear his system paused and tension rise in his frame. Predaking continued and lowered his head to the ground.

The old memory flowed about him and seemed to seep from him into the ground. He gave thanks for the new life and felt the world around him. He gave thanks for the world about him and felt connected to all things. He gave thanks to Primus for a second chance.

He raised his head and looked at the mech. Carefully he trilled and nodded in respect to the leader.

 _Yes_ , he thought. _I suppose we could_.


End file.
